it's you and me, there's nothing like this
by poisonrationalitie
Summary: Ginny meets her first love in the dark at six years old. / title credits to taylor swift / For the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry Challenges, 'Hogwarts Sticker Album', 'Autumn Prompts', and 'Insane Prompt Challenge'.


**A/N: For the Autumn Seasonal Challenges, Star Chart Challenge - November 28th, Mercury at Greatest Western Elongation - write a fic set very early in the morning. **

**For the Hogwarts Sticker Album Quarterly Event, Dumbledore's Army, 5. Ginny Weasley. **

**For the Yearly Event, Insane Prompt Challenge, #689 - restriction: no dialogue.**

**Wordcount: 2226**

Ginny had never been out by herself in the dark. Sometimes, she'd play around after dinner with Ron or Fred or George (but never Percy) as the sun set, but her bedtime came soon after. She was an early riser, but usually only after the sun was up. For whatever reason, though, something had woken her that morning. She'd peered out the window. The sky had been a strange shade of grey, one she'd never seen before. An icy finger stroked her cheek. Around her, there was silence. No stairs creaking, no clatter of pots and pans, no explosions from the twins' room, no wireless. She was the only person in the whole house that was awake. Maybe even in the whole world. She felt as if she'd been stung by a thousand billywigs.

Warm slippers enclosed her feet, and she shrugged on her dressing gown, a fluffy blue thing that had been bought new for her. The bottom dragged on the floor, but only a little. It was only ill-fitting because there was room to grow, her mum said. There were no patches, few stains. It was _hers. _Whoever got it next would have to write their initials over '_G.W'_. Ginny took a deep breath, a smile playing on her lips. The world was her oyster, right now. She had her very own dressing gown and there wasn't a soul to tell her what to do.

She took care to shut the door quietly, and snuck down the stairs, knowing where the creaks in the stairs were without looking. When she got to the bottom of the stairs, she looked up. They spiralled above her head, faint in the dim light. Everyone in the whole world was upstairs, and she was here. Ginny turned her attention back to the room at hand. Everything looked different in the dark. She wasn't afraid, though. She'd never been afraid of the dark. The dark was just the cupboards where her brothers hid during games.

It was weird. The dishes were silent in the kitchen. The fire was unlit, with only a small pile of kindling at the bottom. Mum's knitting needles lay abandoned on her armchair. Her toe hit something. Ginny frowned at the shirt, recognising it as Fred's. There was a dark blotch on the chest. She stepped over it, lifting the hem of her dressing gown. You never knew what Fred would come home covered in. But this morning, it didn't matter. _She _would be the ones having adventures, without the rest of them knowing.

She made it to the door, and it opened right up. Her parents never locked up the house. What was the point? They had anti-theft charms. Still, Ginny couldn't help but shudder, as she stepped down onto the grass. She wasn't _afraid, _but something about it felt like she was breaking the rules. She racked her brain. Her parents had never said anything about when to wake up, or where she could go. Only that she had to be in bed by seven-thirty. A lantern hung from the door, and yellow light spilled across her small frame. She shut the door, hoping nobody heard. It was a big house. She doubted it.

The grass was slick with morning dew, and dampened her slippers slightly. On the horizon, the sky was a lighter shade of blue, striped with the same shade of orange as Ron's bedspread. Ginny stared at the hint of sunrise. Her mouth was slightly agape. It was so _pretty, _and it made her so aware of her heart. She wondered why grown-ups didn't get up early every morning, and come out to see this. All at once, she knew what she wanted to do that morning. She tore her eyes from the sky, and took off running. A soft wind whistled through the trees, caressing her scarlet hair.

Ginny rounded the house and sprinted to the broomshed. The door was slightly ajar, and she slipped in easily. She was glad. It was old and looked much heavier than she could ever hope to push. It was darker in here. Dark dots danced in her vision. She squeezed her eyes shut. It was worse when she re-opened them. Ginny held onto one of the brooms, taking little breaths. It would've been just like Fred and George to try to put some spell that would make her like this. In a few moments, the dots eased, and she could see.

Mum never let her play Quidditch with the boys. She said it was too dangerous, and what would they do if she fell? It was horrible apparating when you were hurt, Mum said (Ginny had never experienced it for herself), and would there even be enough time to get her back to the house to floo? Ginny thought it was rubbish. She wasn't afraid of breaking her bones. Fred and George had broken many, and so had Bill and Charlie, while playing Quidditch at school. Ron had never broken a bone, but he'd twisted his ankle once, and cried for hours. Ginny had laughed at him along with Fred, and promised herself she'd never do that. She wasn't a baby, after all. Only she and Percy had never hurt themselves badly, and Percy was a _bore. _All Percy did these days was read books and study for Hogwarts - he was off next week. It made her feel sick to her tummy to think about him leaving. Percy wasn't fun, but she couldn't imagine life without him. Who would tell them fun facts over breakfast, and help her play chess against Ron, and tell her stories about witches from England who did cool things in real years? She liked his stories better than Bill's, about princesses who had done something a long, long time ago in a place far, far away.

Several broomsticks cluttered the small shed, alongside various deflated quaffles, a trunk that trembled, beaters' bats covered in stinksap, and heavily worn pads for every part of the body - knees, elbows, forearms, shins, even shoulders. Ginny wished she could perform magic already. It would've helped her see, at least. She picked up one of the helmets, grunting slightly. There was only a tiny gap between the helmet and her forehead when it was on. The only problem was that it was heavy, and she gritted her teeth. She wasn't used to wearing things on her head. She fumbled with the straps in the dark, wiggling them until only a finger fit between the strap and her chin. Mum always made the boys wear helmets if she knew they were going to play. Someone important recommended it. Ginny tilted her head back, trying not to let it fall over her eyes. It was hard enough to see already. Next, she searched for Ron's broom, which was the smallest of them all. It was gnarled and as aged as Bill's, even though Ron had only gotten it for his birthday last year. For a while, Ginny had hoped she'd be presented with a starter broom for _her _birthday too. Instead, she'd gotten dolls, and colouring books, and 'new' (but not really) clothes, and a bunch of baked treats from Mum. She liked all of them, but she would've liked a broomstick more.

Ron's broom was only a little shorter than she stood. Along with the helmet, it made it hard to carry. Ginny didn't bother with any of the knee or elbow or shoulder pads. She wasn't going to fall. She was going to _fly, _all the way up to the gently lightening sky. If all her brothers could do it, how hard could it really be? Groaning with effort, she dragged the broomstick out of the shed. Up ahead, one or two dark patches of cloud floated in stark contrast to the sunlight. Even _that _was pretty. It was harder to see the stars. They were still there when she looked in one direction, twinkling merrily, but in the other, they had gone to bed. She'd known that she couldn't see the stars in the day, but she hadn't really thought about _how _they disappeared.

With some difficulty, she tugged and pulled at Ron's broom, all the way to the gate. It was shut, mainly to stop foxes coming in and the chickens getting out. The hens were clucking already. Ginny had plenty of practice hauling herself over the top of the gate, but not the broomstick, too. She frowned. How was she supposed to get it over such a height? She could've lifted it and tried to throw it over the top, but she wasn't sure if she was strong enough. Curiously, tried to bring it off the ground. Ginny leaned back, hugging the broomstick to her chest, and it lifted an inch or two from the ground. Her arms ached. She dropped the broom to the ground.

Nothing had signalled to Ginny that _this _would be the hardest part. She thought maybe the actual flying would be difficult, or even trying to see as the first rays peeked over the world. Not getting out the gate. She made a face at the broom. It said nothing back to her, of course. She shut her eyes and screwed her nose up, trying to think. How to move it? She wasn't sure she'd be any better at lifting it from balanced atop the fence than from on the ground. What would her brothers have done? When the answer came to her, she felt like a million galleons. She opened her eyes.

Carefully, she outstretched her hand over the broom. Her heart was hammering in her ears. She did her best to imagine the broom leaping into her hand. She knew there was _something _she was supposed to think, or say, but she couldn't remember what. There was still sleep in the corner of her eyes. Above her, the sky turned lighter and lighter, the stars winking at her before trudging off to sleep. Ginny had nearly given up. The broom rolled and quivered and jumped, but never quite made it the full way. _Please, _she thought. _I have to do this before Mum's up. _All at once, the broom smacked her palm. She gasped, and grabbed it. It didn't tear her arm out. It felt like something was pushing it upwards, pushing her hand up.

Ginny used all her might to push it down, grabbing it with her other hand, and then lifted her leg. She just managed to swing her leg over the top of it. The broom felt softer than she thought it would. Her heart slammed against her chest. She could hardly breathe. She stood on tip-toes above the ground. Curiously, she jerked the front of the broom. It was all she could do not to shout. It lifted her above the ground, her feet not reaching the grass. It wasn't high enough to clear the gate, not yet. But she was _flying. _It was just her and the broom, and a tangerine sky. Again, she pulled upwards. She gained another two inches. Now she was definitely hovering. Even from here, she could see more of the world than she ever had before, with just a little extra to her height. The gate didn't look so huge.

Slowly, Ginny tugged and the broom obeyed her, taking her up higher and higher. She was panting, though not from effort. Her eyes were wide. One more tug, and she could easily clear the gate. Now, she just had to figure out how to make it go forward. The people on the wireless that commentated the games never mentioned that. It was just a given. _Maybe they teach it at Hogwarts, _she thought. But there was no Hogwarts for her for another five years, and she couldn't wait that long. Firstly, she tried to inch herself forward. The broom felt unsteady beneath her. Her stomach dropped, and she was sure if she stayed like that, she'd slide off the front. Careful, she pulled herself back to where the broom was softest. She jerked her body forward, hoping it would do something. The broom jerked too, and she clenched her legs tightly so she didn't hurtle to the ground. Her palms stung. She tried to picture her brothers on their brooms, but all she could imagine was them zooming high above her, as she shouted at them. The twins would fly circles around her, toes skimming the grass, and Ron would laugh, trying to reach the treetops. That was it. She leaned forward. The broom moved. In surprise, she straightened up, and it stopped, leaving her hovering. Ginny leaned forward again, and the broom slowly flew towards the gate.

She was doing it! She cleared the gate, her feet narrowly missing it. A gasp left her throat, but she was smiling, too. Ahead, the orchard stretched out. Bright green leaves stood proudly on the branches, with the last of the summer's fruit flourishing beneath amongst them.. And Ginny was _flying, _she could see it all. She looked upwards, and saw that the last of the stars had gone to sleep. In their place, a delicate blue sky grinned at her with orange smiles, pieces of cloud scattered across its face like Charlie's pimples. And Ginny was _flying, _and it wasn't dark anymore.


End file.
